In the stillness of Winter
I do not know what I wait for
The bigger the less fallible
I'm a big fish in the pool
Quashing all  hatchling in its way
ensuring there is no overflow
withstanding the colored rain and neige
The larger ones will inherit the world
as they meander down the riverbank

With myrtle and listeners
I undertook the words of the prophets,
promises relapse in an unhealthy fashion
Man the disobedient,
the rectangular mouth
surrenders meekly
The Moons harsh splendor boasts its specious context

Could have been a contender
through the schemes,
I have dreamed upon,
gardens of poppies
nighttime  shade
against the moonshine.

Hold on to my pensiveness,
open my eyes
forget the time!
Night time changes
before the dawn,
anonymous again
The sky is grey
elbows on dry books, we dreamed

You think you've got her
in the palms of your hands
But you're like two colliding Worlds
fleeting dancers in the night

She's not our everyday Lunar
but if we were lovers we could
change everything
She is a falling Angel,
a streetcar named Judgement
And the perpetual rain pours
before you can touch her shoulder

Witches homebrew
Toad of frog fantastical
the tongue of dog snarling
High on octave,
blind snakes gather too
Howls of another's dream
The old crow crinkles
The Headless cutter reigns
Bats blood swirls
Swallows on a wing
Roots of hemlock persist

In his yellow straw hairstyle mask
this Eton Mess
overpays water canons
and recites on the Road to Mandalay
on diplomatic missions
This man is not a leader
a roasting clown apparition
He partied during COVID lockdown
and accused Starmer of a falsehood
He dreams of leveling up
but as a diehard Toff
he has no idea of class

She is built like a boiler chicken
with eggs aplenty to lay
drinking champagne wine
and munching panettone
in the splendor of her nest
No messing up, its not obscene
Time for a temperature to check
for a fever
Touch has a memory
peeling orange rind
Tourist boy
Give me metal to drink


Chasing down the Sun
Yesterday false hope was raised
So we found evening tide
to ablute the chicken shed

I have flown the tallest hill
and it mends my heart
Understanding why
What have I to prove ?
Perhaps I'm a jackdaw in disguise

Walking on rainy days
There's always another time and place
Come that Blue Monday russet feeling
There's so much finite dreams
They just reinforce
the laughing tin  down the road

In Galleys on the ocean
fabled times their voyage
A King's ransom
in search of Gold
Two women weep
for lost loves
On the Sunken coast
they **** and plunder
World in the scales
Bishops sit in judgment
Ash and Sand
The Poseidon rears
it's head

The Tory whale flounders on the seashore
The young have lost respect for politics
The Boris factor has contaminated the gene pool
And now the Torys have a feel for entitlement
in the shape of  Sunak,  Tory boy hereditary
Wealth doesn't make for noblesse oblige
it goes for Green cards
and now Truss in her Thatcher grandese guise
is coming second best
God protect us from these collasal beasts

The Torys aren't fit to govern their lesser sums
Red walls will relapse
Labour will ensure,
and Blue Walls will  fall
with SLD  bricks to replace.

They say you are a rats
nest of  wires and circuitry
but thanks to a reputable shop
you're still guaranteed
The ancestor of the Nikon Fe
Nikon's first automatic camera
The battery is in the dafest of places
behind the mirror
Rabbit ears for Non auto-indexing
You are a workhorse  my Nikkormat EL

Order  has a long-endured shadow.
Like a fire learning to burn.
I've fought hard for the easy life
seeking order,
in the natural economy.

We have a recognition,
with the season's slip,
lit bright against the houses.
Standing to it all
forever an early October song.
The disorientation of a citizen.

She's sleeping in a rose tainted dream
she can almost sense the calm of the coast
Once she loved a man with hands of foam
his words went through her soul,
naked incessantly so
don't cry child the water is warm
there's a scope for listening
carried by the wind

An anxious rain invigorates the morning,
sound the burgle!
Autumn's fruit is falling,
like a beat of a drum.
Drystone walls murmurs
their ancient story
over the coppiced lined hills,
where ancient oaks stand stocially
amongst the wistful stars.

in my room
I have the plath and trakl poets
it's not as though I'm  sadly blue
I write poems of my own
dreamily dreaming of love and dahlias
and await  the never arrived ourtime  message's
that is today's show of good graciousness

Raindrops falling on the windowsill
A lone man standing in front
he's got not much to offer
Jack frost on the tin roof
Old Man blags his finer days
Alley cat roaming the other way
Hot shot comparsions sometimes soon
is about to happen

I am a  swallow,
furnished on a  nest
capturing the essence from  my flight,
diligently following a hidden path.
Pretending Buddha's hand is a hallow truth,
parried by the wind
this old world will not  change because,
you're a fledging
tears like the fallen rain
along with the passing cumulus

It's the silken sound,
on the near-naked ground
like a long blade of grass.

It's in your first hope,
cherished and memorized.
the sudden gust of wind,
scented Sandals teasing the high ground

It's in your  turned pages,
that invites you
like a corral,
teasing the rendevous
climbing the waterfall.
Oh how we were once children

You're really not something else
You're a  copy of the M42  Spotmatic
with stopped down aperture too,
but it's your metering that is a first  
two concentric green half circles converging
for perfect exposure
making you something of a curates egg

it's that retired boarding school feeling
(although manners still make the man),
forgoing the prestige of privilege
except I left it when I was 11,
there's was no eleven plus taken,
no corrective carpe diem moment gainned,
just your direct entry secondary modern
a  carpet of the day job lot
like bottled water expired.
.

Flocks of seagulls by the quayside
A longing to know the poem's answer
Some 73 words to fix them
In  chaos choices are made

Hearts, holograms,
progremates and playing cards;
kept close to the chest.
A feral cat amongst the pigeons.

A fireside of crackling antics.
A Soliquoy at its own behest.




These are your tired orange curtains,
silence after the fall,
such a pretty afternoon,

Southern boys speak loftily
in the winter they keep you warm
in their log cabins
In Spring they don't mind the climes
They are reborn,
showing photographs of the farmstead

A wooing softness becomes them
Southern boys
have plenty of feelings
their aim is good                  
Recouping the truth
Butter melts in their mouth

Impervious like an eagle.
it addles on its arrival
to the anti-vaxers,
waving their whirlwind of disbelief.
Through skin layers.
We have a real sense of being alive
just like reality.

Without Cadence and cascades rhythm
Criticizers without a clue
comment on the poet
instead of the poem
But the poet didn't say Pass On

Quagmires where criticizers reside
commenting on the roots
instead of the branch
The White Witch  mischievous by degree
says criticize the poem, not the poet
but by imagery, language and
figuration
arent they the same

This old country
has given me life
Taught me sad dreams over

Once I was banding the top of trees
until I wrestled a boy from the west
We learned to grow apart
Silver moonchild
the waters are so wide
Steal from the valley
If I were a butterfly
riposte the day
I could be free

Its all my body needs
growing old,
going bald and with
Elevated Liver Enzymes
Like an old soldier
I picked up analog photography
and took pictures of the trees and landscapes
which brought joy to my soul


I have been occasionally offered seats on the bus
and for brisk walks always come last

I have a croissant and flat white each morning
but find the cafe too popular now
and vicariously listen to 70s music
as if I were someone else

a wild blossom gathers moss
a bison searches mountains and further trails
for nourishment and there after

Their dulcet tones
feeding them by the runcible spoon
Is there a calamity in their velocity
Their earthly maneuvers
makes us a vision of beauty
Glances that make a betrothal
yet there's no omission
Just an absorbency of perfection
serving the spirit

As the inquisition  prevails
the power of the humiliated
Intended repentants swarm

Suitcase with grief
Credible April rains
Spring so near
yet so far away.
With the greenfly and spider over my coat
Looking for lasting relations
Could have been a hero
But I've lost my place
Right or wrong.
If I had only known Elvis Presley

When you look out the window
sparrows fly to the ground
I'm walking the thread from past centuries

I want to haunt Sir Walter Raleigh
make him plough potato fields
and partake in the tobacco

I want to confiscate all the assaigis from the Zulus
turn their weapons into plough shears
and grow them maize in jubilant fields
and partake in Valhalla on weekends

Autumn comes loftily
does somersault silhouettes
and turns a man into a tree

In twilight
we play in the fields
and life has a golden hue

The overripe pumpkins are harvested
The hollow wind
strips the foliage

The rays of Autumnal  light
returned us to a familial sheaved place

Someone schemed a forgotten dream
Taking their chemise dress into the rain
Until the Sun blossomed again

Weak backlit
a smidgeon of light on the roadside
and windows peering at me
through their homemade blanket
curtains, showing us ill-informed light
peering from the rim of the windows

New leaves always bring a canker
You can see it through their
orange curtains
Veins of light permeate
at their catfish hanker

I find leaves are like people
regardless of the season
In Toys Woods they stood
to attention foraging
for water, I was reminded

You're a mustang Ford by design.
A proverbial workhorse at 2 and a third lbs,
heavy even for contemporary standards.
Full shutter throttle in your mount.
Outstanding Rabbit ears for non automatic indexing.
You've got a reassured shutter life long click,
without a toxic battery
and an impervious iso dial for finger deftness,
and are a considered consumer model for Nikon
a poormans f2.

My Mother was an Accountants wife,
who sometimes spoke Afrikanesse,
on the telephone
when the children were naughty.
Growing hydrangeas in the cellar,
took up CAB in Camden.
The domestic disputes she could tell

Later took up crosswords
after finding a Left Sun Crossword
then became a master.
There was nothing she couldn't do,
draw freehand domestic animals.
Had the prestige of planning healthy diets,
Aubergine  to appear as chopped herrings,
deft with an Afrikanner chop.

Kindness  follows closely behind
the day is done
Nighttimes dreams flourish

In my garden the crouch grass
celebrate their resilience,
and the trellised Wisteria
never fulfilled their frame.
The planted dahlias
can wait another year or two
and the promised acer never was that variety,
undone by my gardener
whose solitary iris is an
forlong dream.

In the cool of Indian summer,
in the country of leaves,
lit mildew and cobwebs
on the verge,
bespoke sandals on the lane.

Remember who your best friend was?
Now he lies refused
deckled like a bird.
The pages blew, out of proportion.
The broken year will not change,
the kiss of the bright curl of the leaves,
and where was your second chance?

Barren cloisters with howling wind
We are as feigned as the whites of fridges
The wind feels shrug on our faces'

Those barbed words count
like a Jade plant without a stem

You survive by change
and dawn is heaven
after the night's guilted  foray
unmade on nickel promises

Silence it did tell
yet I wish you well
Surely we will be friends
With all this talk
I hope your wounds may mend
There will be some time
and waking someday
with a fine fettle
We spoke on the telephone
half the words were astoundment
and the others pride in each other
I wrote you a letter
and re-read between the lines
All I can do is sign the time

Before she died she
would retreat into the bedroom
for her brittle bone health
to be undetected
When the moment came
she was likened to an elderly on terminal
There were butterfly kisses
before the dispatched silence

There's karma high in the sky,
and a valley lost in the snow,
green will have birth
as the swallow flies by,
the roughish boy runs errant
to the castle in his mind's eye,
framed by shadows of  rocks  with slime
beyond the rosy blue gorge.

Pale daughters,
don't follow their familial line
or wash behind their ears
laved in white light,
they sport a smile when necessary,
compelled by a accidental mischief
pencils of exclusion,
rendered in the shade
We wouldnt go dancing on an almost air.

You never told me you loved me
The only thing you'd ever wear
is the shinny  wedding ring
- without redress -

I'm left dangling in the rain
Tears are easily in reach
This Sterling Man
and the bitter pill you seemed to take
Love has a recall somewhere
but its not happening to me

Hope has creaked against my journey
It has crystallized
I stand tall
waiting  for the consequences
having recognized your artillery
from your Alpha _ Bet
I have loved you
in specious time
Now it seems things aren't so strange
I can see my way
from your schematic generalship

That little stray
what terrors did he see?
Feed him in the snowy December garden
until he came inside

He was a tomcat
until he was  spaded
then he finds his solace
emerging up the landing
feeding tray by tray

Now he is comfortable
by the computer chair
and is feed at the top of the stairs
Still terroritial
he plays crumb fights
with the resident cat

I've been loved
I've been tamed
but it looks like
the bullfrog has won.
I've been suprised
long time coming

In a church in a village
I feel sad that Rose
has cried for the whole world.
I'm a tent
large enough to spirit you away

Hearts and holograms
Snoring cat
pomegranates, playing cards
A fireside of crackling antics
Soliquoy at its own bequest
There's your tired orange curtains
silence after the fall
such a pretty afternoon